Why had she not told her grandmother? Lack of courage; hope that
something would happen to reveal the truth without her telling.
HOPE that something would happen? No, fear. She did not dare look
at the newspapers. But, whatever her reason, it was not any idea
that possibly the engagement might be resumed. No, not that.
"Horrible as I feel," thought she, "I am better off than in those
weeks when that man was whirling me from one nightmare to another.
The peace of desolation is better than that torture of doubt and
repulsion. Whatever was I thinking of to engage myself to such a
man? to think seriously of passing my life with him? Poor fool
that I was, to rail against monotony, to sigh for sensations!
Well, I have got them."
Day and night, almost without ceasing, her thoughts had boiled and
bubbled on and on, like a geyser ever struggling for outlet and
ever falling vainly back upon itself.
Now--here he was, greeting her at the elevator car, smiling and
confident, as if nothing had happened. She did not deign even to
stare at him, but, with eyes that seemed to be simply looking
without seeing any especial object, she walked straight on. "I'm
in luck," cried he, beside her.
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